


It's Nothing (but time and a face that you lose)

by Abbie



Series: Leave Out All the Rest [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Amnesia, Asshole Ollie Queen, F/M, Gen, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Oliver out of commission and missing his memory, Felicity returns to IT--and receives a visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Nothing (but time and a face that you lose)

Felicity wanted to feel good about being back in IT. It was where she belonged, where she was _good_ , better than good, at her job. It was where she stood her strongest ground and felt most confident.

But her return wasn’t exactly a joyous departmental occasion. Her reputation in the company was a shredded waste; pretty much _everyone_ believed she’d gotten her position as Oliver’s assistant on her knees, and now that Oliver didn’t even remember her, her return to IT looked like she’d been discarded, and there wasn’t exactly a lot of sympathy—especially since she’d returned to a position higher than what she’d left, only the department head above her.

And honestly, it was difficult not to _feel_ discarded.

It had been easy enough, before, to casually imagine she wouldn’t have cared for the man Oliver was before the island. She hadn’t known him but for what everyone in those days knew of Ollie Queen through tabloids and TMZ and Felicity hadn’t thought much about him, except to roll her eyes at whatever was the latest headline.

But it was one thing to consider that she and Oliver would have probably wanted nothing to do with each other, as an intellectual exercise.

It was quite another to suddenly be faced with that Oliver and realize she was right; that Oliver had zero use or time or attention for a girl like Felicity Smoak. And in the safety of her wonderings, that hadn’t hurt, because he would have just been some frivolous entitled party boy she would have no patience or desire for.

In real life, it was like being rejected by the Oliver _she_ knew, even if that wasn’t who he was anymore. It hurt, a lot, realizing exactly how little the Oliver of old would have cared about her. Because the only Oliver she _had_ known _did_ care about her, and it was a little like he had died, only worse.

So she retreated into her work. Lost herself in code and firewalls and all the things she’d missed doing outside of the foundry. It was nice to be high enough up the IT food chain to avoid the bulk of the calls about missing emails and can-you-come-fix-this-thing-it-won’t-turn-on-what-do-you-mean-is-it-plugged-in-oh-wait. But it wasalso very quiet. Very lonely.

Tommy’s bored, pointless text messages were the only thing brightening her day, and it squeezed her heart how grateful she was that he and John hadn’t just vanished on her. She still kept waiting for them to drift away, but it hadn’t happened yet and she would cling to their familiarity for as long as it lasted.

[TM:] seriously this is insane. she just told Alejandro she’s pregnant with his dead twin brother’s baby. also they are apparently cousins? and I think they just revealed Alejandro used to be Alejandra???

Felicity laughed and smiled down at her phone, shaking her head.

[FS:] This is what you get for watching telenovelas with a hangover.

[TM:] in my defense i really didn’t mean to get that drunk. ollie is more persuasive than i apparently remembered.

Felicity snorted, a little bitterly.

[FS:] Which reminds me: you’re welcome for removing that video of you guys doing bodyshots before it could go viral.

[TM:] oh god never again. i am not 22 anymore he’s gonna be the death of me.

[TM:] wait what video

[FS:] I said BEFORE it went viral. And I repeat, you’re welcome.

[TM:] you are a goddess and i would be lost without u.

[FS:] Tommy.

[TM:] FINE, you. spelling dictator.

[FS:] Just be grateful I let your appalling capitalization slide.

[TM:] i am grateful! grateful to get away!

[FS:] Anastasia references? Are you trying to butter me up, Merlyn?

[TM:] no but i am thinking we should get together for a rewatch sometime. i am still determined to get you tipsy enough to duet once upon a december with me.

[FS:] I bet you say that to all the girls. Never happening.

"Wow, working hard, huh?"

Felicity’s head snapped up so fast her teeth clicked together. Just inside her doorway stood Oliver Queen, dressed in hundred-dollar jeans, a gray tee shirt and his black leather motorcycle jacket. There was a light, teasing smile on his face, one eyebrow raised and his eyes twinkling as they—yes, he definitely just glanced down at the bit of cleavage displayed by her v-neck shirt.

"I, uh, excuse me—what?" Felicity resisted the urge to adjust her neckline, putting her phone down on her desk and gripping its edge with both hands for steadiness.

He looked so much like Oliver, like the real Oliver, _her_ Oliver, it was a little like being kicked in the chest by a horse. But he also just looked… wrong. Standing there with an arrogance to his posture that screamed “I look good, you know I look good, I know you know I look good” and the sort of shallow flirtation in his smile she hadn’t seen since before he bloodied her backseat, but ramped up to eleven.

It was jarring and uncomfortable; this wasn’t the Oliver she knew at all…except how he was. It’s not like Oliver post-island was a picture of humility and personal kindness. But he wasn’t this… oversexed, footloose _tool_.

She realized at least some of her thoughts must have shown on her face when his jaw clenched, smile thinning and turning flinty and eyebrows raising in that way he had of making you self-conscious. “Sorry, did I interrupt a really important conversation? Or some super vital project for the company?” He blinked, hard, snarky mask fully in place. “Because from here it just looked like you were flirting with your boyfriend on my family’s dime.”

The barbed, provoking tone of his voice pushed right past Felicity’s melancholy and loneliness and hit her straight in the annoyance. She rolled her eyes, head tilting to one side as she gave him the look he had once described as “check your bullshit at the door.” And of course, at that exact moment, her phone buzzed with a new text.

Deliberately casual, Felicity picked up her phone and read the new message.

[TM:] aw cmon felicity. we can make a cartoon movies night of it. i vote aladdin. i can show you the wooooorrrld.

Snorting, Felicity glanced up to see Oliver standing with his arms folded, that little tick in his jaw telling her he was not pleased to be so easily dismissed. “So sorry, Mr. Queen, but since I’ve already finished all of this week’s projects I figured I could take a minute to text Tommy back. Since, as I’m sure you’re aware—” the device in her hands buzzed again, but she put it down. “—ignoring him does _nothing_ to discourage him.”

Oliver shifted his weight from foot to foot, frowning and looking uncomfortable. “Tommy—you mean _Tommy_? Tommy’s texting you?”

She glanced down at the man in question’s latest text—more song lyrics—and shook her head. “You’re the one who got him obnoxiously drunk last night. I just get to deal with the hungover and whiny aftermath.”

She tapped out a quick pithy response to Tommy, then looked up into the drawn out silence to find Oliver had moved closer, standing just behind the chairs in front of her desk with a curious, confused cast to his features. “You’re friends with Tommy?”

Felicity stared at him, struck by how he so _clearly_ couldn’t imagine her having any actual place in his world that the idea of her texting with his best friend was just unbelievable.

And then it made her angry.

Putting down the phone, Felicity slapped her hands down onto the desk and stood to her feet, leaning across it to glare acidly at Oliver, whose hands dropped to his sides in surprise, eyebrows climbing, taken aback. “ _Yes_. I am friends with Tommy and with your bodyguard Diggle, and as absolutely ridiculous as it may seem to you, as questionable a decision as it seems right now, I was—I _am_ friends with you!” She stabbed a finger at him, really getting going. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m not part of your high society party crowd, or because I’m not chomping at the bit to jump into bed with you and be another of the _many_ notches on your bedpost and then fade conveniently out of your life, or because I’m mouthy and nerdy and not your preferred leggy model type, but for some reason you just _cannot seem_ to get around the idea that we are _friends_ , Oliver!”

She stopped, breathing hard and cheeks on fire with high temper. She swallowed thickly at the now blank expression he wore, realizing she’d started using her loud voice—at least he’d closed the office door behind him.

Hands gripping the backs of the chairs in front of him, Oliver leaned slowly, deliberately towards her, breaching her personal space in a way she was and wasn’t familiar with and that made her head spin in a decidedly unpleasant way. His eyes raked over her face, then bored into hers intensely. Very calmly, almost flippantly, he said, “You know, maybe I can see why we spent time together. You’re kinda hot when you’re angry. Loud, though.”

Distantly, Felicity knew, she _knew_ he was lashing out defensively, resentfully, _trying_ to provoke her—but it worked. For just a moment she saw red, and before she knew what she was doing her palm cracked against his cheek—bizarrely clean-shaven—snapping his head sharply to the side.

Instantly, regret washed over her and she jolted back, hands clapping over her mouth as she stared in horror at the red print of her hand blooming across his cheek and jaw. He blinked rapidly and turned to stare at her, wearing a look she didn’t understand or know how to place or read.

"I’m sorry," she whispered between her fingers. He just looked at her, one hand raising to press fingertips to his cheek.

Behind him, her door opened and Diggle leaned in, expression cagey and a little concerned. “Everything okay in here?”

Eyes meeting his, Felicity’s face went slack in dismay, her hands lowering to the top of her desk. She couldn’t believe she’d _slapped_ Oliver. Even if he was deliberately pissing her off, he was floundering, slotted into a life that didn’t fit him and barely remembered him like this anymore, and she knew, she _knew,_ it was an Oliver reflex to push away and lash out when he was at a loss and hurting; that was apparently always true.

For a long moment neither of them spoke, so Diggle gave them both a hard look, stepped inside, shut the door, and deliberately faded into the wall, feet shoulder width apart and hands clasped in front of him in the classic pose of “bodyguard on duty.” It hurt Felicity’s heart to see him so… _professional_ , with them. She, Oliver, and Diggle were each other’s safe space.

Now there was no space riskier than a silent room and the three of them.

Sucking in a deep breath, Felicity surprised herself by having to blink back a sudden prickle of tears, then looked up to find Oliver’s eyes still on her, hands now in his pockets. He looked… thoughtful. It was almost familiar.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “Why did you even come down here, Oliver?”

He jumped slightly at her hoarse, low voice, like he had almost forgotten she could speak. He smirked sardonically, and Felicity’s heart dropped further; the mask was back in place. “My phone. It’s password protected. Shockingly, I don’t know my password.” He showed his teeth, smile a bitter edge. “Nothing I’ve tried works. People tell me I go to _you_ for my tech problems.”

Felicity searched his face, but he wasn’t giving an inch with that brittle, sharp smile. Swallowing thickly, she held a hand out palm up across the desk. “You do. And as it happens, I know your password. Hand it over, I’ll unlock it.”

He hesitated, fingers clenching in his pocket, obviously around his phone. It stabbed her in the ribs; he didn’t want to give it to her. “Why don’t you just tell me what it is, since you apparently know my phone password?”

He wasn’t smiling anymore. Her hand dropped. Defeated and feeling suddenly exhausted, she sat back down, looking up at him. “It’s ‘abetterway.’ Lowercase, no spaces.”

He jerked his chin up, a sharp, angry nod. “Thanks. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Felicity watched helplessly as he turned and walked away, opening the door and striding out without a pause, not even glancing at Diggle.

John looked after Oliver, lips pursed together, head shaking, then turned and strode the short distance over to Felicity. He slid past the visitor’s chairs and covered her hand with his, staring into her eyes with a look of fierce, protective concern. “You okay?”

She smiled tiredly, emptily up at him, hand flipping under his to squeeze his fingers. “I’ll be fine. Are you okay, Digg?”

He smirked. “You know me, Felicity.”

Oliver’s voice called in through the doorway, irate and impatient, “Are you coming, Mr. Diggle, or do I even need a bodyguard?”

John closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, long and low. Opening his eyes again, he and Felicity shared a commiserating look and he said, “We’ll talk later.”

And then she was alone.

She took a long moment to just breathe, to stuff her emotions down to manageable levels and wrap them up tight. She could deal with them later.

While she sat and mentally recalibrated, her phone buzzed; another text. Swiping the touch screen, she saw she’d missed three new messages from Tommy over the course of her confrontation with Oliver. The latest read:

[TM:] you there smoaky bear?

Felicity smiled lopsidedly, a rush of sentiment for Tommy flooding her chest. Sighing, she tapped out a response.

[FS:] Sorry. Oliver stopped by.

There was a short pause.

[TM:] Are you okay?

Felicity laughed; he’d capitalized. The smile quickly died, though. She wasn’t okay. But she didn’t want to talk about it right now either. After a moment’s hesitation, she sent back:

[FS:] Movie night tonight? You and me.

[TM:] I’ll be there, hell or high water. Bringing Chinese.

[FS:] And beer.

[TM:] And beer.


End file.
